


you thought hell was hard

by sxldato



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Daddy Issues, Episode: s11e09 O Brother Where Art Thou, Everyone is angry, Gen, Going to Hell, Implied Lucifer/Sam Winchester, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Implied/Referenced Torture, Lucifer's Cage, Season/Series 11 Speculation, Unresolved Emotional Tension, it's lowkey gay idk, the episode hasn't even come out yet
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-04
Updated: 2015-12-04
Packaged: 2018-05-04 20:48:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,356
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5348024
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sxldato/pseuds/sxldato
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"You were never a good enough soldier for <em>your</em> father, so you want to redeem yourself by obeying <em>mine.</em>"</p><p>It's been a couple years since they last talked, and they don't exactly start off on the right foot this time, either.</p>
            </blockquote>





	you thought hell was hard

**Author's Note:**

> the promo for 11x09 has me legit scared, like don't get me wrong i'm super stoked for lucifer to come back but. i'm also Very Afraid  
> this feels like a bad idea, writing about an episode that isn't airing until next week... whatever  
> i have a headcanon that a) michael's the one who was throwing punches in the cage (because it wouldn't make sense to give lucifer power in his prison cell??) and b) hallucifer was sam's brain tapping out and calling it quits, _not_ actually lucifer himself. hence the difference between lucifer and hallucifer's personalities, the way they treat sam, etc  
>  bottom line is i'm very distressed about this whole situation  
> beta'd wow  
> title is from "Hard Time" by Seinabo Sey

“Hey there, Winchester.”

There was a bite to the casual tone, one that he couldn’t quite place. He'd never been _Winchester_ before, not even upon their first meeting all those years ago. Formalities had been too professional for what they had in store with one another. 

So he'd sort of been expecting condescension in the form of _Sammy_ or _baby boy,_ or a dozen other names that made him squirm when they came out of Lucifer’s mouth. But that didn't mean _Winchester_ lacked a sharp sting.

“Been a while,” he says. His hands tremble at his sides. 

“Too long, don’t you think?”

If it were up to him, he wouldn’t have come back down here ever again. If he got to choose (for once in his fucking life if he got to choose) he’d forget the devil’s face, the teasing lilt of his voice, and the coarseness of his ashen feathers. The devil’s screams. How often they had fallen in tune with his own.

What nobody knew, what he’d never even told Dean, was that the Cage wasn’t just a permanent penalty box for the serpent that had poisoned the Garden. It wasn’t something as simple as a time-out, wasn’t like a kid being sent to their room to think about the bad things they did. A kid with a normal life, at least, because Sam can remember the feeling of a fist curled around the collar of his shirt, the salty taste of blood in his mouth, the snap of a leather belt.

But if all time-outs were like that, then yeah, the Cage was pretty similar; a holding cell for a couple of filthy children who pissed off their daddies and were due for a beating.

“You don’t want to bust me out,” the devil guessed. “Understandable.”

“I’d sure as fuck hope so, after what you did to me, after you split my sanity down the middle—“

“Oh, have you decided to forget that was all on you?”

Sam wanted to throw up.

“Do I repulse you? Make you sick?” Lucifer leaned against the bars, long talons curling around the iron rods. His face was the color of concrete, painted with soot and blood and scaled around the temples and cheekbones. Two sets of eyes blinked in tandem and kept changing color. Large, spiraling horns protruded from his forehead, matte russet brown and fractured at the ends. This wasn't his true form, not by a long shot, but it still wasn't pleasant by any means. “How do you think I feel, looking at you?”

In his visions, everything had been layered in tones of red. Someone must have stopped by and redesigned, because now the Cage was shrouded in shades of green.

He didn’t say _I’m sorry_ because ultimately, he wasn’t. Screw soul bonds and the power they wielded together (and how good it had felt), fuck the devil and how the two of them were “two halves made whole.” Maybe on a certain level he’d been able to understand, could even relate as shameful as that was, but that hadn’t meant he would sit idly by while the world was ripped apart. Especially when it had been his fault. No, locking the devil up had never been one of Sam’s regrets.

“I know what’s going on up there, Winchester." 

"You're not the one doing the talking right now, alright?" The more Lucifer spoke, the more Sam could feel himself losing control. "Shut up." 

"But, I mean, I’m kinda your last option at this point, aren't I? I’m the only hope you got left—wow, you know, that’s actually _hilariously_ ironic—“

“ _Shut up! Just shut up!_ ”

“Or are you just following God's orders? You were never a good enough soldier for _your_ father, so you want to redeem yourself by obeying _mine._ ”

“I _said_ —“ All he needed, apparently, was that last burst of fury to start making dumb choices; his legs were carrying him right up to the bars of the Cage, and he was face-to-face with Lucifer again, and for a moment, it felt like no time had passed at all. For a moment he was twenty-six and scared and the world was ending (and he wouldn't think how two of those things were still true). _“—Shut up._ ”

Four eyes narrowed at him, flashing bright and angry in the dim light. “Watch your tone, boy. I could crush you.”

“Could you? Because you look pretty fucking trapped in there to me. Pretty fucking tired, too. Not much time for rest when there’s no one else taking Michael’s punches for you, is there?”

A set of claws lashed out between the bars and grabbed Sam by the chin, digging into his skin. Lucifer stared him down, unblinking, eyes nothing but white.

“You are a petulant _insect_. You know that’s not how it was. You know I didn’t want you getting hurt.”

“Well, you did a real bang-up job, you lying piece of shit.”

“Don’t you dare speak to me like—“

“You can’t give me orders! You don’t _own_ me anymore, Lucifer, you hear me? I don’t belong to you.”

The nails dug deeper into his flesh, drew beads of blood.

“You don’t fool me for a second," Sam spat out. "I know you’re broken.”

The grip on him slackened, and the hand drew back, talons falling away. Lucifer turned, the scales on his face catching the light as he moved, and created some much-needed space between him, Sam, and the Cage’s bars.

“You don’t want to let me go? That’s your choice. Live the rest of your life watching your brother fall prey to the Darkness, always looking over your shoulder, burning yourself with holy fire each time someone bleeds on you." 

Before Sam was sure of what he saw, Lucifer faced him, and the long slashes of scarring that had seemed to run the length of Lucifer's shoulder-blades were gone. "Just keep running, Winchester, if that’s what you really want. Hell knows you’re good at it.”

Sam remained very still, took a few measured breaths. Inhale, exhale, one two three one two three, _anger is a signal and signals can be ignored, fear is a signal and signals can be ignored._

“There are rules,” he said after clearing his throat, closing his eyes against the Cage's radiating and oppressive heat.

“Because I’ve always been so good about following those,” the devil sneered.  “Don’t play games with me.”

“Would you fucking _listen_ to me? I wouldn’t come down here just to play games, and you know that.” Sam let his head rest on the metal rods. "Please, just... listen, okay?"

There was a dull glow and Lucifer was a familiar form again; mussed blond hair, blue eyes, a tattered button-down rolled up to the elbows. It pulled an ache in Sam’s heart, one painful enough that it was impossible to ignore.

“You’re really letting me go.” This time, the hands that curl around the bars of the Cage are normal, human, with scarred knuckles and protuberant joints.

“No, I’m taking you with me.” The perverse desire to reach out and smooth down Lucifer’s hair stole Sam’s focus like a bad itch. “You listen to me, you listen to Dean, and you do whatever God tells you to this time around. No questions, no complaints. And you’re not leaving my sight, not once.”

Lucifer’s eyebrows perked up. “I would’ve never thought dominance would suit you so well.”

A chill chases itself down Sam's spine. “None of that, either, or I’ll tear you a new one. I’m serious.” When a couple beats went by without a snappy reply, Sam continued, “ _What?_ ”

“You’ve changed, Sam.” It didn’t go unnoticed that that was the first time during their exchange where Lucifer used his first name. It felt more personal. Intimate. It made Sam’s skin crawl.

“Oh, fuck off.”

Lucifer watched him with the intensity of a lion; hungry and golden, desperate to shed blood. But not Sam's blood. Never Sam's. “Your soul, it’s different.”

“You wanna know something, Lucifer?” 

Sam leaned in again, close enough that their noses brushed against each other between the bars. “ _I don’t care._ ”

**Author's Note:**

> _Thought you got away_   
>  _This here ends today_   
>  _You thought hell was hard_   
>  _Let me show you now_


End file.
